Chilled To The Bones (And Nearly Just As Tired)
by Buckets-Of-Stars
Summary: A cup of coffee gets spilled, Peter turns (a little) blue, and Tony gets worried and panics because his son is so goddamn stupid (but he loves him anyway).


**A/N:** **Heyo guys!:) So after my last *cough* really sad *cough* story, I figured I would indulge us both in complete and utter fluff to make up for it. I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.**

The thump on the window startles Tony so much that he drops his coffee.

" _Shit!_ "

Hissing as the burning hot liquid hits his leg, the elder Stark quickly grabs a napkin from the kitchen counter, trying in vain to soak up the stain now forming on his dull, gray pants.

He had just come from one of the longest meetings of his life, the dull eyes of all of his clients still flickering behind his eyes even after he is home. Groaning in frustration, the billionaire lightly kicks the large shards of soaked, white glass out of his way as he moves.

Hopping out into the dimly lit living room, Tony looks up from his stinging leg to glance at the window, fully expecting to see the dead body of a poor bird sitting limply on the outside window sill.

What he really sees, however, makes his blood freeze in his veins.

Peter—his son—is standing on the glass, weakly hitting his fist against the metal frame as he shivers in the cold. His mask hangs limply in one hand, his trembling lips a light blue and his normally bright puppy eyes half closed in exhaustion.

Letting out a cry of alarm, Tony lunges over the leather couch, the pain in his leg completely forgotten as he practically rips the glass from the wall. The chill outside smacks the superhero in the face, his eyes watering and goosebumps rising.

His child stumbles in as soon as the window is clear, leaning heavily on his father as he clutches the man close, his mask getting dropped to the carpeted floor.

"Hey Dad." He says, voice raspy.

" _Peter!_ " Tony gasps, pulling his son further into the room and closing the window behind him. "What the _fuck_ are you doing still outside?! I told you it was too cold this morning!"

The 14 year old just cuddles closer, resting his face in the crook of his Dad's neck and wrapping his whole body around the man. His thin frame is still shivering, even when Tony leads them over to the couch, throwing a large, brown fleece blanket over them as they sit. When his boy speaks, his voice is hitched, his breath ghosting over Tony's neck.

"There w-was a mugging happening Dad, just a few blocks away. I c-couldn't let them get hurt because I'm to-too cold."

Tony, flighting the urge to reel back at the coldness of the boy's nose against his skin, let's out a sigh in resignation, knowing that he cannot ever argue with his son about helping people. Even when the act puts him in harms way instead. Gently pulling his still shaking child back against his chest, Tony runs one hand through Peter's soft hair, the other trying to coax some warmth from his thin frame.

"I understand," the genius says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "that you want to help people kiddie. But sometimes it's better to just tell me, and I'll go take care of it, okay?"

Tony can feel Peter nod, his face pushing into his father's warmth as the man continues his comforting motions. Feeling his nerves finally beginning to settle down, Tony can also feel the instinct to get his child fed rise up above the rest. Shaking his head, the man cups Peter's neck as his trembling begins to die down.

"Are you hungry, Pete? Have you eaten anything yet?"

His son peaks his face out from his Dad's chest, doe eyes brightening at the prospect of food. Tony smirks, amused and relieved that his face has started to gain color once more.

"Not yet! I was gonna get a sandwich earlier, I promise, but then the mugging happened and I had to help a little kid find his mom and then—"

"Okay okay, kiddie. I'm not mad—not _that_ mad, but you need to eat Peter. Even superhero's need food, bud."

Peter nods, baby-face all serious, and Tony can barley hold back a coo because his kid is seriously so adorable. Brushing his child's damp locks from his face, the billionaire gently untangles himself from Peter's grip, gently shushing the boy when he whines in protest.

"No, it's cold!" Grabbing onto his father's sleeve, the 14 year old turns his pleading eyes upwards.

"Nope, no, none of that kiddo. You need to eat something and then get some sleep. We can't have you getting sick this close to Christmas." Tony argues, leaning down to tuck the blanket further under his kid as he shivers again.

Gently brushing a kiss onto Peter's forehead, the genius backs away as the boy's eyes slip shut, body sagging as his exhaustion makes itself known. Quickly moving back into the kitchen, Tony makes three grilled cheeses, almost slipping on the now cooled coffee running through the tile. Huffing out an annoyed snort, Tony mops up the mess with a stray towel, watching his cooking sandwiches the whole time.

Finally they are just the perfect shade of brown, and the billionaire places them onto a paper plate, carrying it out of the room just as Peter slowly sits up, no doubt awakened by the smell of food.

His son practically inhales the sandwiches, only stopping once to take a gulp of water before going at it again. The whole thing is gone in less then 5 minuets.

By this time, Peter's eyes have started drooping again, a large yawn cutting his protests off short as Tony takes the empty plate from him. Shaking his head in amusement, the superhero watches with fond eyes as his boy leans more fully against his side with each passing second, his head getting pushed into his normal spot against his father's chest.

"Okay spider-baby, time for bed." Tony whispers, already beginning to lift his softly grumbling son from the couch.

"Wait-wait, Dad. D'you think—" Blinking his does eyes open, Peter stops Tony just as he was lifting him into his arms. "—that you can giv'me a piggy back r-ride please?"

". . . Why?"

"'Cause it's fun! Pl-plus I'm tir'd"

Snorting at his child's flawed logic, the elder Stark turns around with a sigh, bending his knees and wincing as his son's bony legs wrap around his waist. Hosting Peter higher up his arms, Tony begins the slow track to the boy's bedroom, his nearly asleep baby's snores ruffling the hair on the back of his neck with each step. Looking back, the billionaire frowns in concentration as he carefully steps past the couch, making sure not to bump his boy's legs against the leather.

With flailing limbs, Peter wraps his suit clad arms around his father's neck, nuzzling his cheek against the man's back and making a humming noise at the softness of the gray jacket. Tony smiles softly, a tender and loving feeling tightening his chest.

His child is exactly where he should be.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!:)**


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